


The Six Dates of Eddie Kaspbrak

by ifyoucouldholdme



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Body Dysphoria, Dates, Eating Disorders, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Hurt/Comfort, Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, Punk Eddie Kaspbrak, Reddie, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2020-04-06 17:11:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19067020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifyoucouldholdme/pseuds/ifyoucouldholdme
Summary: Eddie's been deep in a pit of self-loathing, and the Losers devise a plan to show him how much he is worth.





	1. Eddie

                There’s a feeling that lodges itself deep in your gut when you realize that you may never become the desirable protagonist of your own romantic comedy. You notice every imperfection in your face. The number of lonely holidays outnumbers your hopes of dates and moonlit strolls. The body you inhabit disgusts you, and your les than perfect qualities grow loathsome.

                Although he was still young, only a few months away from earning his undergrad degree, Eddie already was intimately familiar with this despair. Many nights, even after officially dating Richie, he stood in front of his mirror wishing he was more appealing. In tears he would grab and pull at his sides and thighs trying to imagine a slimmer, sexier version of himself.

                This repeating tableau is precisely what Richie barged in on one night. “Better not be diddling your doodle, Eds, cause its finally Fri—”

                “What the fuck?!” Eddie shrieked. He yanked his shirt back down in an instant, ashamed of his body and the red marks he pinched across it. “Knock next time, Jesus.” There wasn’t any time to wipe away the streaks beneath his eyes, but maybe he can distract from the rest of his compromising position.

                “Babe,” Richie dropped his backpack and rushed to Eddie, “what happened?” He reached out for his sniffling boyfriend who jerked away.

                “I’m fine,” the boy lied.

                “But you’re crying,” Richie tried again, cautiously reaching for Eddie again. The latter gave into the embrace this time. Burrowing into the smell of cologne and Richie’s natural scent, the wave of intense inadequacy washed away to a dull discomfort.

                “I’m sorry,” he whimpered, “I just feel really bad tonight.” Richie massaged gentle, soothing patterns across Eddie’s shoulder blades. His worried eyes glanced to the mirror by his bed. Forgotten in the excitement, a small collection of pictures lay scattered across the floor beneath. Only a few were discernable from where they stood. Some were clippings of diet plans and health magazine articles. Others displayed glamour shots of models and selfies of various thin boys. A vice clamped Richie’s heart to his lungs and spine. Pressing his lips into the fluff of Eddie’s bangs, he asked, “Eddie. What were you doing in front of the mirror?” His breath refused to flow from his chest as Eddie fought off a fit of sobs against it. Richie was strange and a little clueless in normal social interaction, but he was no idiot. He understood.

                “I’m sorry, Richie,” Eddie finally managed to choke out. “I…I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m not good enough.” That was the only sentence he could vocalize before collapsing into Richie, who rocked him gently repeating, “You’re perfect, babe.” While they held each other, Richie began to devise a plan to show Eddie how perfect he already was.

 

 

**TrashboiTozier created a group chat**

**TrashboiTozier renamed the group “supersecretneed2knoplans”**

**TrashboiTozier:** I’ve got a kinda weird thing I need you guys to help me with


	2. Beverly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Six Dates of Eddie Kaspbrak begin! Beverly teaches Eddie to go for what he wants.

The next morning Eddie fluttered awake to the unusual absence of a particular mop headed dork. Richie normally snored in a tussled heap well after Eddie rose for the day, forcing the other to crawl over his sprawling limbs to escape their wadded sheets. Today, though, the spread had been neatly laid down and tucked around Eddie. The smell of coffee brought him sweetly out of his dreams.

                “Richie?” he mumbled, still in a lifting haze. Richie never woke up early, much less make the bed or start coffee. A wrinkled letter folded on the nightstand caught Eddie’s eye. With a hefty sense of suspicion, he unfolded the note.

                My dearest, darlingest Edward Spaghettward,” it began. Eddie chuckled a low, “Even in a note, asshole?” and continued reading.

                “You’ve been working real hard lately, what with the studying, and the papers, and the chronic masturbation.” Eddie cringed. “You deserve some good clean fun. We’ve put together a little surprise for you. Be at the mall by noon today. Don’t be late or you won’t get any of this sweet ass for the foreseeable future. –Richie”

                “Bold of you to assume that I want your crusty ass,” Eddie smirked. With Richie, you could never guess what to expect. Eddie stretched with a yawn. “Guess I’m going shopping today.”

 

 

The open lobby in which Eddie perched in waiting could hardly qualify as a mall at this point. It was more a few specialty shops interspersed with vacant hollows where other doomed businesses once profited. He sat on a bench between two such plots situated directly across from an alternative fashion boutique. Glimpses of band apparel and various jewelry and accessories peered out from behind the poster covered windows at Eddie in his plain khakis and polo. The store was what his mother referred to as a “tramp’s palace.”

                As a teenager, she refused to let him wear jeans at all, much less all black with a studded belt. The cartoonish image of Sonia’s overexaggerated scream which suddenly sprung to mind brought a snort out of him.

                “What’cha laughing at?”

                The snort turned into a shriek. Eddie nearly toppled out of his seat. Looking over his shoulder, he met eyes with a giggling Beverly Marsh. Her smile beamed down at him, probably due to the shimmering bronzer she wore, but partly, he thought, because Bev just had that kind of sunshine within her already.

                “Holy shit, Bev! You could’ve sent me into a cardiac arrest!” he scolded her. Beverly just winked in reply. “You’re not as fragile as you think, Eddie. You ready to go?”

                Eddie’s brow knotted in confusion. “Go where?”

                “Of course,” Bev rolled her eyes, “Richie didn’t explain anything, did he?” Richie never explained anything, at least not in any comprehensible way.

                “Apparently not. He just left me a note this morning saying to meet him at the mall by twelve.”

                “That goof,” Bev chuckled as she hopped in front of the bench. “Edward Kaspbrak, it is my pleasure to invite you to Eddie Spaghetti Week!”

                With a look of patient annoyance, he deadpanned, “Eddie Spaghetti Week?”

                “That’s right!” She smirked and gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. “Each day this week, you’re going out on a special date with each of us. So, come on!”

                Eddie’s confusion swiftly turned to anxious embarrassment. His cheeks flushed, and his palms grew sweaty. “A d-date?” he stammered.

                “Don’t worry, silly,” she reassured, pulling the anxious boy to his feet, “they’re platonic dates. Well, at least mine is.”

                Wait, what? “What does that mean?” Beverly may or may not have heard, but either way she changed the subject and pulled Eddie towards the forbidden tramp store.

                “For my date with you, we’re going to give you a makeover!” Eddie instinctively opened his mouth to refuse, but this was finally an excuse to see what lay behind the barricade of posters. As loud as his mother’s voice was in his head, his curiosity shouted louder.

                Eddie’s hands trembled inside his pockets as he followed Beverly throughout the store. The day he finally stood up to his mother in the Derry hospital happened so long ago, yet he could still hear the piercing rattle of her voice warning him against the sin of the heavy metal bands and the black fingernail polish which now caught his eye. He recalled the day she caught him watching MTV. That day he learned all about Satan worshipping rock stars, the risk of AIDS from sharing needles with other drug addicts, and the homosexual snares of men wearing eyeliner. He knew somewhere on a conscious level that his mother’s hatred was just emptiness fueled by fear and ignorance, but that sense of shame she left behind still embedded itself deep in his bones.

                Beverly, having already found a basket full of makeup and skirts to try, rounded the corner to find Eddie lost in his thoughts while mournfully gazing at a display of studded wristbands and chokers. “Grab some, Eddie, and we’ll see how they look.” Eddie turned with the expression of someone who’s name was just called for the draft. “I…that’s…I wouldn’t be able to pull off a look like that Beverly…”

                The epitome of encouragement, Bev rolled her eyes with a smile and grabbed a handful of the accessories. “You totally can, honey. I’ve already grabbed you some outfits. Let’s try them out!” Eddie sputtered out excuses and denials, but Beverly took none of it. She grabbed him by the elbow and rustled him to the changing rooms.

 

                Beverly must have had a drastically different concept of what fashion worked on Eddie than he did himself. He could see himself wearing the graphic tees, although some of them were a little overboard in their intense imagery. However, she had thrown him several pairs of skinny jeans over the changing stall door. The self-loathing mounted higher with each pair he tried on. Most felt like they fit. He could still bend his knees and squat down without splitting anything, thank God, but he wouldn’t dare wear anything so form fitting in public. He didn’t want to force anybody else to see the shape of his body, at least until he could force himself to slim down again. Lately he felt the pull to once again slide down the path of eating nothing but a piece of boiled chicken and two large cups of coffee a day. The last time, before he broke down, he was able to at least drop three sizes. He didn’t reach the goal he wanted, but at least he was skinnier than he was now.

                “Oh my God, Eddie, we have to get this one for you,” Bev decided, and she tossed a top over the door. Eddie caught the bundle of fabric and unfolded it. “I can’t wear this, Beverly!” he cried. The woman had thrown him a damn long sleeve crop top!

                “Just try it on Eddie. You’re going to look bitchin’, trust me.” Eddie wanted to trust the caring voice outside the changing stall, but she didn’t know. She didn’t understand how disgusting he looked. With a huff before he could change his mind, he slipped the shirt over his torso. As he looked in the mirror, he liked the style, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the midriff he despised so terribly. That was the final shot to his composure. He dropped to the bench behind him, tears finally overtaking him.

                “Eddie,” Bev’s voice floated through the door, much softer than before, “is everything ok in there?”

                “Fine. Can we stop now?” he sniffed loudly.

                “Can you at least let me see how it looks?”

                Eddie scoffed. “There’s no way in Hell I’m coming out dressed like this.”

                “Ok, then, I’m coming in there” Eddie panicked, turning just in time to see Beverly crawling under the stall door.

                “What the hell, Bev?” he whispered loudly. She stood, dusting herself off. She held a small bag of things she must have already purchased as he was going through the outfits they selected. She saw the tears falling down his face even though he tried to hide them. With a heartbroken smile, she kneeled beside Eddie, taking his hand in hers. “Eddie, honey, if you really don’t like this stuff, we don’t have to try any more on. But I saw you looking at some of the styles out there. You didn’t look like someone who absolutely didn’t want to try them out. I’d like to show you that you can try for anything you want to try, but I need you to trust me. Will you? At least enough to try and see what I see in you?”

                The sudden intimacy of the moment made him squirm in uncomfortable closeness. His entire childhood was spent denying anything he wanted himself, from wanting to date boys even to the clothes on his back. Beverly’s loving support was new to him, but he wanted to try. If not for himself, he could try for her. “Ok, Bev,” he whispered.

                “That’s my Eddie,” She beamed. It turned out, inside the bag was some hair gel, eyeliner, and various wristbands. She even brought out the studded choker that caught his eye before. After a moment, she had transformed him entirely with just a few simple adjustments. She swiftly swooped his hair into an oddly fitting mohawk, slicking every strand up to a fine point. His eyes watered badly when she tried to apply the makeup under his eyes, but after a few blinks and touch ups, he looked like a punk straight out of the rock concert. She placed the finishing touches with the wristbands and the choker and painted his fingernails black and yellow. “There we go,” she whispered, pulling out her phone, “You look fierce as fuck, Eddie. See?” She snapped a picture with her phone and presented it to a blushing Eddie.

                “Wow…that can’t be me…”

                “I told you to trust me. You definitely rock the punk look.” Eddie still felt ashamed of how much of himself could be seen in this outfit, but he had to admit that Beverly was right. He did look pretty punk. She raised the phone again. “How about you give me your best punk face?”

                Eddie thought for a moment, then made a face more bizarre than he intended. Beverly guffawed loudly, clasping a hand over her mouth as she remembered they were still in one changing stall. “Ok, I don’t know what face that was, but it was hilarious. Give me another one.” Eddie cracked a smile, then dragged his hands down his face and stuck out his tongue making a comedically grotesque expression. Beverly cackled, not caring who heard her this time. “Oh my God, what the hell is that supposed to be?”

                Eddie giggled wildly. “That’s what Richie looks like when he wants to make out.” The two carried on like this over several more poses in their impromptu photoshoot. Eventually, they exited the changing rooms and bought their choices before they could be kicked out. As they caught the bus back to the dorms, Eddie was too caught up in spending time with Bev to focus on whether people were staring at his weight or his clothing. He felt for once that he could be what he wanted. He rested his head on her shoulder, careful not to stab her with his now tall hairstyle. “Thank you Bev,” he whispered as he flipped through their pictures on his phone.

                She grabbed his hand and leaned into him as well. “Trust me Eddie. You are fierce enough to be anybody you want to be. Don’t forget that.” They fought to stay awake the rest of the ride home. As his mind wandered, he couldn’t guess how the others were going to top this day with Beverly. -  


End file.
